Deciding on a quick visit to my local River Cut, I almost turned round and went home, when I saw a thick muddy deposit being washed into the river from one of the town outfall tunnels. The clear natural river was being stained brown as the polluted water washed over the weir. Similar occurrences have killed the fishing stone dead in the past, but I opted to give it a try, walking downstream to where the river was still clear, cutting a swim out from the overgrown bank side, among himalayan balsam and stinging nettles. By the time I had set up, the coloured water had flowed down to my swim and I did not hold out much hope of any bites.

The features of the bottom had already disappeared in the murk, when I cast a 4 No 4 stick float, on a long line to five metres of pole, over to the edge of sunken logs. There was only two feet of water over that side, but a chub was waiting for the 7 mm bread pellet to drift down, the float sinking before it cocked. A sharp upward lift of the pole saw the elastic come out as a chub dived back to the logs.

I was probably more surprised than the chub, not expecting such a rapid response. I had baited with two balls of liquidised bread, before getting the pole out of its bag and cast over again into the area. The float dived again, this time a quality roach stretching out the elastic as it zigzagged across the flow.

Once again, no sooner had the float settled, it dipped and held down, as another decent roach took the bread. Three casts and three fish.

This float has a fine tapering tip, that offers little resistance to fish in the slow moving River Cut, ideal for fishing bread punch.

The next bite slowly held down to the tip, and I struck before waiting for it to sink, a spirited rudd skating across the surface to the net.

I dropped the float into another ball of bread and watched the float lift, then slide sideways, the elastic coming out again with a decent roach fighting in the shallow river.

The pace of the river had increased, but the bites kept coming, this time a better rudd running off downstream.

The river was changing colour again, taking on a grey tinge to the mucky brown, and I missed a few finicky bites, before making contact with this nice roach.

Fishing over depth and holding back to slow the bait down, brought a small chub, then another good roach took at the end of the trot, fighting hard all the way back to the net.

As the river took on a blue tinge, the bites faded away, a small roach and a rudd being the last fish, then half an hour without the hint of a bite. Even the local ducks seemed keen to get away, about a dozen speeding down through my swim. I packed up and headed back up the path to the van.

I thought that I was in for a decent session, but it was good to see some quality roach and rudd.

Reaching the outfall I could see why the river had changed colour again, a white discharge clouding the river.